


The Age Thing

by cbstrike



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Age Difference, Dinner, Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:01:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27603188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cbstrike/pseuds/cbstrike
Summary: Over a casual dinner party, friends discuss age gaps in relationships with two wondering if their gap is or isn’t too wide.
Comments: 20
Kudos: 44





	The Age Thing

“No,” Nick insisted, spooning a heaping serving of curry onto his plate. “It’s half your age plus seven for minimum and then for maximum, you subtract seven from your age and then double that.”

“On what god forsaken corner of reddit did you get that?” Ilsa asked, incredulous. Everyone at the table laughed.

“It’s from _Psychology Today_ , actually!” Nick clarified, smug to have had a legitimate source. “They surveyed people and that’s the acceptable range.”

“So for us,” said Ilsa. “Twenty seven to...”

“Got a twenty-seven year-old you fancy, do you?” Nick quipped.

“There is a new paralegal that’s just _so_ dreamy.” she teased, laughing as Nick pouted. “Twenty seven to… sixty-six.”

Cormoran snorted and then coughed, feeling his spoonful of curry go down the wrong pipe. Robin, who was seated next to him, gave him a great thump on the back.

“Boytoy to an old bird not in your cards, Oggy?” Nick teased. “Not interested in being ‘May’ in a May / December relationship again?”

Cormoran ignored the ribbing.

“So for you, Max,” said Ilsa, not jumping on the opening to cajole Cormoran and Robin for once, held up fingers as though counting with it. “You’re forty-two, so it’s twenty-eight to seventy.”

“But that isn’t a law,” Jonathan interjected. Robin’s brother was once again visiting with her for a few days. “It’s just an arbitrary guideline.”

“Some creepy bastard probably came up with it to justify an affair with someone far too young.” said Cormoran. “Bet you anything.”

“What’s an acceptable age range for you, then?” Ilsa challenged, now with a hint of suggestion and a side glance at Robin.

Robin shifted to create a marginal distance between her and Cormoran, trying very hard not to blush, or if she was already blushing, that the people at the table would think it was due to drink.

“I think as long as it’s between two consenting adults, it shouldn’t matter.” Jonathan argued sensibly.

Cormoran, Nick, and Ilsa all grunted, shaking their heads.

“An eighteen year old and a sixty year old are technically consenting adults, but that doesn’t sound right, does it?” Cormoran argued. “Fuck, even a twenty-two year old and a forty year-old…”

“You mean you wouldn’t get off with a sexy eighteen year old who’ll throw herself at you?” said Max.

“Nope.” Cormoran said easily. This was true. Teens are just… the very thought was making him shudder. Twenty year olds, however… he remembered that one night he shared with supermodel Ciara Porter who he had been curious to find out later was only twenty-one at the time.

“What if she says please?” Max teased some more.

“Jesus.” Cormoran chuckled.

“But no,” Nick added, swallowing his swig of beer. “The half your age plus seven thing is for serious relationships. Marriage, you know. If it’s just one night…”

“Would _you_ sleep with a teenager?” Ilsa asked, full body turning to face her husband, looking a little testy.

“What would I sleep with another woman for, I’ve got a wife!”

“Hm.” Ilsa grunted, rolling her eyes, but couldn’t help the small smile that formed on her lips.

“What about you, Robs?” Nick turned his attention to Robin now. “Your range would be twenty-two and forty-six. Your min-max is a good, decent range. Perfectly alright if you picked either side of the spectrum.”

Robin made a face at the idea of dating a twenty-two year old.

“No?” said Ilsa, picking up on her dismay. “What’s a good age range for you?”

She shrugged. “Dunno.” she swirled her wine glass by the stem, thinking that her history only gave her experience with dating someone her own age. She tried not to think about how going up to exactly ten years older might not be too bad. “I reckon if I like someone and they like me back, age would be the last thing that matters.”

She was feeling very hot in the cheeks now. She dared take a quick glance at Cormoran’s profile, who was only shovelling curry in his mouth.

“Yes!” Max agreed enthusiastically. “Thank you, Robin! The age thing is bollocks. They could be old souls, we don’t know—”

Cormoran snorted. “City’s crawling with rich old bastards with twenty-three year old wives they insist are old souls.”

“What’s a good, acceptable range then, Mister Strike?” Max challenged.

Cormoran never really thought about it. Age had truly been the last thing he thought about with previous relationships, except he’s never been interested in women much younger than he was, finding exhausting even thinking of the additional emotional burden of trying to level with someone very young. In fact, the youngest woman relative to him that he’s ever fancied was about ten years younger…

“I think it’s fair game if you’re thirty and over, but if you’re in your twenties or younger, stick to your own age group.”

The table seemed to stop their chatter and movement, staring at him. He realised it too late, plied with beer and wine, that their little group would read into his words what he might not have explicitly intended.

“Er,” he stammered. “I only mean if anyone thirty or over would date someone significantly older…”

Ilsa was swelling so much with excitement, Cormoran imagined her inflating like a ballon.

“I mean…” he could feel his cheeks burning. Somehow, knowing Robin wasn’t looking at him was making him feel even more awkward. “If they were to date someone who’s, I dunno—decade— _decades_ older. Like fifties or sixties or something... It wouldn’t be a big deal, would it?”

“But what makes someone who is thirty more equipped to date someone ten, twenty years older than they are than someone in their twenties?” Jonathan asked, the only one at the table who didn’t seem to notice or care about the shift in the room. “I mean, aren’t brains done developing at twenty-five?”

Robin made a face, unpausing too from the awkward air Cormoran created. “Just because your brain’s done developing at twenty-five, doesn’t equal maturity!”

“Right!” said Jonathan. “That’s why I’m asking Corm why thirty? What makes thirty so significant?”

Robin closed her mouth, feeling again very warm in the cheeks. Nick was sniggering. Ilsa was looking at Jonathan as though she found him adorably oblivious and wanted to pat his head.

“Jon does have a good point.” said Nick. “Twenty-five, thirty-five, biology has nothing to do with emotional maturity at that point, which makes the half your age plus seven thing good parameters.” he insisted. “It’s arbitrary bollocks, but it’s good Math! How old are you, Jon?”

“Er, twenty-two.”

“Right. So your range would be eighteen and thirty. See! The math checks out! If you date an eighteen year old or a thirty year old, no one will bat an eye. It’s both socially acceptable and you’re more likely to find someone on the same page as you are whereas if you date someone our age, priorities will be all different, wouldn’t it? Different places in life, different interests. It’s all about wavelength.”

“Got any first-hand empirical evidence to support that theory, doc?” Max asked.

“Not personally, no.” he admitted. “But these two flirts have been round the block a few times.”

“Oy!” Ilsa whacked her husband in the arm.

“You dated someone much older than you were, Ilsa?” Max asked.

Ilsa sighed. “Nicky’s right, actually.” she said. “Or it’s different with women. I’d been twenty-five, he was forty. And a senior partner. And I was only an associate… but it’s just me!” she added, non-too-subtly directing her protestation to Robin and Cormoran. “I mean, Corm, you met Alan! We were not a good idea together, were we? Even without the age thing.”

“No, you were not.” Cormoran agreed. Alan, who had proposed to Ilsa, was a good enough person, Cormoran mused. Treated Ilsa well enough, but to his twenty-five year old self and their peers, was too old and boring at forty.

“What about you?” Robin asked him.

“Huh?” he was momentarily stymied, looking at Robin next to him, cheeks red with drink.

“Did you date anyone outside the parameter of acceptable age range according to _Psychology Today?_ ”

Cormoran couldn’t help grinning, wishing it was only him and Robin chitchatting.

“I was twenty-four, she was thirty seven. Age was not an issue, though.” he said, tight-lipped as ever. Robin felt a frisson of excitement over this new tiny window unlocked from her image of Cormoran.

“What was?” Max asked. Cormoran exchanged looks with Nick and Ilsa, who both met and liked Greta. He knew they knew perfectly well that Charlotte was the issue. Charlotte was always the issue.

“Uh, she worked as a school teacher in Germany, I’d been deployed to Basra. No Skyping back then.”

Upon mention of Basra, Max got distracted and started asking about army things again, the conversation tapering off to other topics.

He stepped inside Robin’s bedroom, closing the door behind him. “What did you think about all that?”

The beautiful smile that greeted him made his stomach do a flip.

“All what?”

“The age thing.”

“Rubbish, obviously.” Blue-gray eyes twinkled with the smile that so delights him.

“Obviously.” he agreed, outstretching his arms for a hug that was returned. He buried his nose against soft, strawberry-blonde hair. “You don’t think I’m too old for you, Ellacott?”

Jonathan chuckled, kissing Max on the mouth, and then cheek, and then the throat, murmuring his objection. “I think you’re perfect.” he adds.

Max looks at Jon, young and beautiful, only a little worried he might be falling too far and too fast. He kisses Jonathan’s nose.

“I gotta go before one of them walks back down.”

Jonathan buries his face in the crook of Max’s neck, grunting disapproval, making Max laugh. He sighs, prolonging the embrace, cupping the back of Jonathan’s head, keeping the young man pressed to him. “Rob will walk in any second.”

Jonathan grunts, unwilling to move. “Let her walk in.”

Max chuckles. If it were him, he’d have told the world of what he’s found with the man in his arms. It was for Jonathan that all this was new.

It happened fast: the click of the knob, the smooth swing of the door, Cormoran’s swift “Sorry!”. The detective had shut the door back close again before both men could react, pulling away from their tight hug and looking at each other wide-eyed with shock.

**Author's Note:**

> T W I S T
> 
> What do we think? Y/Y? No? 
> 
> I wanted something different and surprising that features a rarepair. Lemme know what you think!


End file.
